Flying Fish

The Bigun is still glowing about her trip to D.C. which makes me a happy Fish. She's come home full of stories about their program and the things they saw and the people she met. Oh, and also she came home with a cold.

When we picked her up at the airport here, she just looked cold and tired, but as we got her in the car and closer to home, she was positively verbose. At least about her forum experience. She didn't have much to say about the airport.

Which I find funny, because really? For me half the fun of the journey is scoping out the airport. It's a controlled environment and has its own rules and quirks and verboten topics and procedures. And its own stores.

Imagine! Shop at the AIRPORT! Who DOES this?

All over Dulles are signs assuring you that no, we do not jack up these prices. You will find these same jacked-up prices in these same establishments outside the airport. Which is weirdly reassuring. I mean, if I'm going to get fleeced, let's get that out of the way as soon as I land. Why wait for it?

I think it's a conspiracy among airport authorities. Clamp down on security breaches and force people to go through security the moment they enter the airport, which, according to most airlines, should be 1.5 to 2 hours early. Then, after spending only 15 minutes in the security process, including wanding and shoe removal, let them sit for an hour and a half with nothing to do before their planes arrive. What to do,... what to do,... Oh, let them SHOP!

Of course, this does not ever work in reverse. Get off a plane with luggage to claim and it's: SO LONG! This way to GET OUT! Leave already! They conveniently place the baggage claim beyond the point of no return (only ticketed passengers beyond this point!) and beyond the reach of any refreshment. You just got off the plane? You're hungry and tired? Who the hell cares? Get a taxi, fer cryin' out loud, and GO.

This was not fun for me when I got to DC and realized there was no food to be had, and with a desperate daughter who had exactly 3.5 hours to see everydamnthing. (Note to self: pack a lunch.)

But of course, Fish is nothing if not teachable.

So when I left the Bigun with her group Tuesday 5 hours before my flight home, I had two options. I could go ride around on an expensive bus for three hours, or I could explore Dulles. Door Number Two, please.

Evidently the airline doesn't want to take possession of your potentially explosive luggage too early, so I had an hour to kill before I could even go through security. Now I feel a whole new level of pity for people stranded in airports. Remember the images of the flood refugees after Katrina, stuck in that airport? HOW did they ever SLEEP on those chairs? I managed about thirty minutes worth in the hour I tried to sleep. Those are pretty good odds for Vegas, not so much for resting.

But after divesting myself of the luggage (no wonder they call it that if you LUG it around) it was on to security. Now, mind you, I had managed to skillfully (read: accidentally) smuggle 5 lighters and a pair of scissors on board my initial flight in my purse and carry-on. If they wanted those items, they were going to have to actually find them. I'm ornery like that. So I'm imagining that making it through DC security would be the same. Um, no. (Note to self: remember DC is the Nation's Capital, and they're probably a little more anal about security. And this is good.)

A very nice, thorough security officer held me up while he hunted down all five lighters. Did he get the scissors? Of course not. But we chatted and he advised me matches were perfectly acceptible. (Note to self: do not try to understand security regulations; it makes your head ache.)

So on to the wonder that is the Dulles Shopping Experience. There are basically 5 concourses off the main terminal, and many places to spend money. My gate was in G terminal, in, I believe, eastern Maryland. Checking the map like a smart Fish, I learn there is only ONE shop listed there. No way am I going to get there one minute before I need to. The lovely moving sidewalk to B concourse was a necessity, as B is in another county apparently, but still in Virginia. Having got to B, I went in search of a smoking lounge. I mean, priorities are important, and airports apparently also have this thing about letting people go in and out of secured areas.

B's lounge is closed, so that means traversing B to A and getting the shuttle to C. Lost yet?

C's lounge is dark, smoky, and populated by Germans who smoke something altogether different than I. So off to find food and the lounge in D. Of all the choices, and there were many, where did I eat lunch (at 2:45?) Wendy's. Wouldn't you know? I was indecisive, it was close, and I was starved. I went all the way to DC to eat at Wendy's. Oh, and Dunkin' Donuts. *sigh* I'm such a loser.

D's lounge was much better. Still filled with furriners, but better ventilated ones at least. It was wonderful until I got tired. So tired I was afraid of passing out altogether and missing my flight. This meant I had to do more shopping!

What, pray tell, did I buy, you ask? That pashmina shawl that looked so gorgeous? Some of that gorgeous silver jewelry? The Rosetta Stone Spanish software I need so very badly? Oh, but no.

A stinking snow globe without even any snow in it.

Here's this lovely little replica of the White House, all perfect for the Little Critter (because I will PAY DEARLY if I do not return home with some offering in my hands) and it has those little confetti music notes and stars in it, and DOLPHINS. Yes, I said dolphins. I've pondered this since the moment I got it. What in the HELL are DOLPHINS doing in a snow globe of the White House? Is this the new intelligence network the administration proposes to use? Pets for the fountain on the Lawn? Or is this some kind of sign, fish to Fish, that I'm supposed to decode?

Anyway, dolphins in tow, I make it to G just in time. I've gone so far east by now it's surely in Baltimore. Down the unheated, open air walkway and out to... a gate? Oh, no. It's out ON THE RUNWAY like in the movies. And I'm hauling my own carry-on up these stairs, collapsing into my seat, closing my eyes and...

listening to the guy across from me snore.

It's sure good to be home. With the dolphins and all.